


The Words

by hopingforaword



Series: Poetry Fics [2]
Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: First Person Narration, Flowers, Happy, Implied Hanschen was promiscuous, Implied Past Relationships, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Kind of a riff off the vineyard scene?, Love, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, POV Ernst, Poetry, Religion, flowernst, idk they have sex in a field, more poems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 19:19:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8172938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopingforaword/pseuds/hopingforaword
Summary: I don’t have the wordsfor all these sins we commit in the flowers,the church steeple still in sight





	

It’s secret

what we do in this field,

sins hidden in the flowers,

only a couple hundred yards

from the steep church steeple.

The word sin makes me turn away

from what I used to love.

Sins, they say.

Sins, we whisper to each other.

(I do not say what I think)

Some I have words for.

Beautiful, he says,

as he kisses me.

Warm, he whispers into my neck

as his hands

slide delicately

up my shirt

fingers whispering

almost tickling.

Talented, he kisses

into my palms

before he loosens his tie.

He says nothing

as we undo each other’s shirts

(both of us are breathing heavy)

but his eyes darken

Usually, he licks his lips

Careful, he says

to me and himself

as he pushes me back

Our pants tighten

as he hooks himself over me

(it’s in these moments that I

know

my parents’ dream of a

daughter-in-law,

three little grandchildren,

me, a priest,

are all gone)

His gold hair falls into

his ocean eyes

He pushes it back

as he whispers hi

millimeters above me

he dives down

you taste like beer

he laughs, foreheads pressed together

I speak finally

so do you

he chuckles

and his nimble fingers

find my belt

clothes move

flying off our bodies

until we’re bare

this is where I lose the

exact words to describe things

he could tell me I suppose

but I don’t want to ask

(I’m still too embarrassed)

(we don’t talk about it

I’m sure he’d like to

his sinful smirks across class

burn my cheeks

tell me he wants the world to know

but he is taking it slow for me

and all the past others are erased)

he says my name

he caresses my skin

gaze and hands

holding me tight

burning

before he slides in

it burns

there is where I lose the

ability to say anything other than

three words

and his name

which I moan

repeatedly

loudly

it burns so nicely

his warm skin

and fiery eyes

and burning soul

I whisper

right before it’s over

I love you

he doesn’t say it

but as he collapses next to me

I know he meant it

in all his other words,

in the way he snuggles

tight next to my side,

in the dopey smiles

when he thinks I’m not looking

(to be fair,

I do the same thing).

I don’t have the words

for all these sins we commit in the flowers,

the church steeple still in sight,

and I’m too scared to ask.

He doesn’t say the words

he thinks and means,

because he’s the loud one

and still too scared to speak.

But it’s perfect anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> scream at me at hopingforaword.tumblr.com  
> If you liked this fic, check out the other poems in my [ Poetry Fics series](http://archiveofourown.org/series/558955). They're not all the same fandom, but a lot of my poetry is similar. If you like poems, check 'em out.


End file.
